


Cross Country

by thepapercrow



Series: A Different Life [3]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: M/M, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:34:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28413969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepapercrow/pseuds/thepapercrow
Summary: Traveling with Arthur is wildly different from the quiet solitude Charles embraced for so long, each day a new adventure and struggle. But for all the baffling emotions that Arthur somehow pries free, he wouldn’t trade this for anything.Just a few one-shots that fit into my larger fic. They can stand alone too; all you need to know is Arthur and Charles are in their early 20s and are traveling the country together with a big wad of cash.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Charles Smith
Series: A Different Life [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1961767
Comments: 12
Kudos: 24





	1. Embarrassment

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 1 Embarrassment: Arthur had been the one who’d asked for the haircut but as Charles held the scissors before him, he couldn’t help the little shake of his hands.  
> Chapter 2 Jealousy: The woman was beautiful and well dressed with shining hair and red lips but Charles could only turn away from her searching eyes.  
> Chapter 3 Cold: They were both filthy but an icy river bath hardly seemed the smart choice.   
> Chapter 4 Shame: Charles knew that Arthur’s love for Mary was a bitter scar and as Arthur glared down at the unopened letter Charles couldn’t help his own wandering memories from resurfacing. Of the woman he’d sought to marry all those years ago. 
> 
> For readers of the main story, most of these fit into the time during the interlude, when Arthur and Charles are on the road. I just thought now would be a good time to introduce a bit more (mostly) wholesome content and a few of these have been sitting written for weeks! Some are more serious and plot related and some are just fluff. Normal update schedule of the main story won't be any different, this is just where I'm throwing fragments that don't really fit in anywhere. 
> 
> This first one is a true story from the quarantine. Names have been altered to protect the individuals in question.

“Your hair is really nice, you know?” Charles looked up from the rabbit he’d been skinning by their little campfire. Arthur was staring at him intently with a little scowl from his seat on log opposite from him. Arthur had said as much before and Charles had tried not to preen at the compliment, but now the words were almost bitter.

“Sorry?”

“You didn’t even deny it.”

“Should I?”

“No, of course not. I was just thinking…” Charles waited for him to continue but it took a while, Arthur looking exceedingly embarrassed for some reason. “Well, I know this sounds really bad given I’m not a child, but… You know what? Never mind.”

“You sure? I’m kind of curious now,” Arthur considered him for a moment from across the fire, indecision clear across his face. But finally, he just shrugged a little and jumped right back into the conversation.

“Do you cut your own hair?” It didn’t sound much like a question despite the words, Arthur knew just how much of a hermit Charles tended to be.

“Rarely, but yeah. It’s pretty simple and I only cut the ends to get the ragged ends off now and again.” Charles finally saw where this was going, Arthur had begun to play with his own messy hair, now wrapping around the base of neck. Charles had to admit that it looked nice like that, wildness somehow endearing on the man.

“So you’re experienced then?”

“Are you asking me to help you cut your hair Arthur?” Arthur opened his mouth, then closed it and nodded over to him, only a little red.

“I guess I could go into town, but it seems like a waste of money. Always had help from Susan or Hosea.” He looked embarrassed again as he continued, “she usually insisted, and I haven’t really told you much about that woman, but when she insists on something, you sure as hell better agree. But also, if you don’t want to, I get it.”

This was interesting. Uncharacteristically bashful for the man who usually curled up against him, grumbling till Charles ran his fingers through his hair like he was some sort of oversized dog. He found himself nodding back easily.

-

But it had been a mistake Charles saw now, stooped behind Arthur with the pair of shears from the little medical kit Arthur kept strapped to his horse. The right side looked fine, good even- but somehow, he’d managed to cut too much from the right, thrown off by Arthur’s part. His own hair was simple to cut, it’s length and uniformity presenting little struggle, but Arthur’s shorter hair was deceivingly tricky- every snip radically changing the shape of Arthur’s head.

“You almost done back there?” Arthur finally asked as Charles continued to stare at the ragged cut he’d made in horror.

“Ah, yeah. Almost.” He frowned and moved Arthur’s head a little, perhaps a different angle would help him think of a plan to salvage the cut. In theory it wasn’t so different from whittled down a chunk of wood. But with higher stakes- Arthur was fashionable, for a vagabond at least. He didn’t seem to care about the mud continuously splashing all over their clothing and horses as they traveled, but he spent hours meticulously scrubbing everything clean the second they found the odd stream or town. He’d always referenced Susan or Hosea as the culprits when Charles inquired about his habits, but Charles could tell it ran deeper than that. Not to say he was overly vain, but a botched haircut seemed just the thing to send Arthur under his hat for all hours of the day. Not good. He made a few more cuts.

“You sure are cutting a lot Charles…” Arthur was starting to sound concerned himself at the ever-growing pile of clippings floating down to rest across his legs and boots. It was getting harder to see as the sun finally began to sink over the horizon, leaving only the light of their campfire to see by. He’d been at this a while.

“Should I stop? It was a bit uneven, so I figured I’d just make it a little shorter.” Arthur released a little laugh, and Charles felt his checks burn.

“So it’s even now?”

“Not exactly.” It truly did look better than it had, Charles’s method of rounding out he hair around his skull hiding some of the jagged cuts from before, but even in the dim light he could tell there was something off about it.

“Could be better. Maybe I should try-” Charles cringed at the uncertainty bleeding into his words. And at the tenseness of Arthur before him.

“You know what Charles?” Arthur hurried to say, swiveling to his side to look back at him, “maybe we should call it a night.” Arthur hesitated while Charles nodded back, but eventually was compelled to reach back to inspect his head with his fingertips. They froze as they finally reached the butchered clump on the left side. “Huh…” Charles couldn’t quite tell what Arthur was thinking as they just stared at each other, Arthur’s fingers still frozen over the crater.

“There’s only one thing for it.” Arthur finally said as his eyes moved over Charles calculatingly. “I gotta cut your hair now in payment.” Charles hands rose slightly to protect his head only to still as Arthur started laughing. “Shit Charles, I’m just joking. I’d never do that to ya.” Arthur seemed to laugh harder at whatever he saw on his face and Charles couldn’t help his own embarrassed little smile at the sight.

“I’m really sorry, I didn’t realize it’d be hard.”

“That’s okay, I’m kind of glad I’ve found one thing your bad at, at least. It does wonders for my ego.” Charles took the peace offering as he felt his face burn.

As they rode out the next day, Arthur’s hat was fully drawn over his head and Charles wished he had his own to do the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanted to start off with something light and short. Poor Charles, cutting hair is hard if you don't know what you're doing. It was going to be Arthur messing up, but I couldn't do that to Charles's hair.


	2. Jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brief mentions of non-consensual lap sitting.

Charles wasn’t drunk, not really. That was more Arthur’s territory, at least that’s what he told himself as he continued onto his second spiced cider, relaxed in a plush chair he’d found tucked away in the inn’s parlor. It was warm, and sweet, and altogether not the type of drink he’d expect to find in a mountain town. Probably something to cater to the wealthy easterners that seemed to trickle through Glenmore to gape at the stickwork cabins and impressive redwoods with wide eyes and wider wallets. But Charles couldn’t fault it, the sugar seemed to mellow the alcohol and encouraged him to sprawl out in the chair, drinking more. Arthur had laughed at him and refused to even try the thing, suspicious of the bright red color and cinnamon garnishes.

“I don’t know ‘bout that Charles, looks like a scam. A way to squeeze out every drop of these wealthy folk’s coin. But I guess we can afford your expensive tastes now,” Arthur said, grin only growing at Charles’s glare. The hypocrite had bought a new belt just this morning to match to his shirt, his old one being too red. But Charles couldn’t blame him, this was the first time they’d stumbled across a town in days, motivated to creep out of the woods by the constant rain and mudslides. A quick break wouldn’t hurt.

“Bet you’d like it too, if you weren’t so set on only drinking cheap whisky collected from a back-alley puddle.”

“Hey, that was one time! _And_ it was still in the bottle.” Arthur seemed to consider moving a large stack of crates off the only other furniture, an equally garish loveseat. But after some wobbling and a near collapse, he gave up and wandered away from the fire. A subtle pat to the thigh and mumbled words about new tack was all he got before Arthur headed out from the warmth of the room, sight set elsewhere. Another luxury they could now afford- but why Arthur was compelled to go in the middle of a rainstorm, Charles had no clue. He’d been looking forward to talking over nothing with Arthur and he couldn’t help but feel the loss.

-

The small fireplace in the corner dwindled down to embers, but Charles was too comfortable to bother adding more wood. He was just on the verge of drifting off in the plush chair when the lady f appeared from nowhere, falling back over one arm of the armchair onto his lap with a little shriek. He just barely managed to pull the mug out of her path, sparing them both from an unfortunate dousing.

“Ah, I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed, catching herself on his thighs. But the voice carried a smile, even as her bashful expression dropped from his eyes, still draped over him. “It’s the damn heels.” She wiggled a little foot to show off the offending footwear, blocky heels with admittedly smooth bottoms.

“Caroline,” she offered, scrambling to perch on his thigh. He looked around the room in confusion, he’d never been so close to a woman so finely dressed, and now there was one doing her best impression of a lap cat. Even the trim on her dress was decorated with embroidery and lace, little flowers intricately woven throughout.

“Charles…” he trailed off, waiting for her to find her feet again and move so he could continue with his day in peace. She didn’t make any move to get up though, meticulously shaped blonde ringlets swaying around her face, white teeth nervously chewing on red lips. She really was pretty, but he felt distinctly uncomfortable with her touching him so freely. She also looked like she’d break under one finger, so Charles resisted bodily shoving her back, trying to be patient while she recovered.

“You don’t mind do you? This is the only useable chair in here and my feet really are in pain after all this walking. Never knew a vacation could be so strenuous, though I suppose I should have prepared for it, knowing I was coming this far west.” He did mind, but it seemed like she wasn’t going to give him a chance to admit it, her bubbly narrative spewing forth at record speed.

“I’m here with my cousin you see, but he’s given me the day while he goes to learn about the hunting situation up in the woods. I can guess how grumpy he’ll be when he returns though, he was not wearing the proper rain gear at all when he set out. Not suited for this land like the locals at all. Are you some sort of lumberjack then?”

Charles blinked over at her, “…no, just a traveler. You’re welcome to the chair miss; I was just leaving.” He almost felt bad for the crestfallen expression on her face, but what was she doing, sitting on stranger’s laps?

“You don’t want to sit with me then?” she asked him in an offended voice. Her arm locked vice like around his bicep in a last effort to cling to him. She was close enough that he could pick up on the subtle scent of alcohol- he hadn’t been the only one indulging.

“Sorry miss.” The little bell was the only alert Charles had to their new guest. Arthur’s voice carried through the room as he listed the different leather options available down at the stables.

“They’ve even got…” he trailed off, coming to a stop before the chair where Caroline was still pouting, and clinging to him. He panicked, and again he had to stop himself from physically flinging her off. Arthur’s eyes fell to her legs curled up on his thigh, the intimate tangle of limbs and lace. His own hazy, cider addled mind alighted, trying to come up with a proper excuse to stop Arthur from jumping to the wrong conclusion. This was bad, really bad.

“What are you doing?” Arthur finally asked, voice a deep growl.

“I…” he started. Arthur cut him off, arms crossed over his chest.

“Get off of him! Can’t you see he ain’t interested lady?” She spluttered, real fear clouding her face now as she scrambled off him in a rush, almost slipping again as her feet met wooden floors. Arthur steadied her with a hand to the elbow, but the death glare didn’t ease up. “Now fuck off, and don’t be grabbin’ on people like that.” She wasted no time, doing just that- fluffy skirts dragging along her as she turned tail and hurried back into the main lobby without a second glance back. Everything was silent other than the hurried footfalls echoing through the walls as heeled shoes flew up wooden stairs. Arthur still looked mad as he turned his gaze to Charles.

“Unbelievable,” Arthur said as Charles looked down, embarrassed. He didn’t feel guilty exactly, he’d wanted nothing to do with that woman, but he also didn’t know how to explain. She’d been small and delicate, and he was six feet of muscle. Any move against her would surely have sent the two rough looking outlaws running for the hills under this whole town’s ire.

“You okay?” Charles finally met eyes with Arthur, the man’s face finally losing the angry edge. Now he just looked concerned.

“Yeah. I honestly didn’t want her to sit on me like that but guess I didn’t…” he trailed off.

“Course you didn’t, darlin’,” Charles couldn’t control the surprised warmth flowing though his veins. “Would you mind if did though?”

“If you what?”

“Sit on your lap, does look kind of comfy.”

“Right here? Isn’t it a little open, what if someone sees?” They were mostly tucked away from view of the main lobby, but Caroline had certainly stumbled across him.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Arthur backed down easily, and offered him a little smile anyway.

But as Arthur turned to head over to the rug laid out before fire, Charles couldn’t really help it, grabbing Arthur’s arm and pulling him back onto the chair alongside him. Arthur immediately relaxed into his chest, put his legs up across the length of the chair to hang off one arm. It was a tight fit, Arthur being twice the size of Caroline, but Charles didn’t care.

“Thanks,” Charles finally said, quietly from around the mug.

“For what? I didn’t do nothin’; I was just jealous is all- a pretty girl like that takin’ my place.” Charles didn’t believe that for a moment, but he let it pass, let Arthur pry the drink out of his hands to finally take a taste of the baffling drink.

“Huh? It ain’t so bad!” Charles let him keep the stolen drink, he’d had enough was about ready for a nap. Arthur returned to his description of the leather options, voice low and comforting.


	3. Cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this self indulgent? Yes.  
> Is Arthur a little shit? Also yes.

Rendering fat was a messy job and the whole clearing was covered with a thin layer of the grease from just one day of working the campfire. Charles’s hair and clothes seemed similarly sticky and it was with a grimace that he pushed his fingers through the strands. An elk was no small creature to break down, and the second the pot had been placed over the coals Arthur had fled the scene. But Charles could only accept it with a sigh, Arthur _had_ beat him in an archery contest and won his freedom from the task, no matter how moronically. It was a nice day though, the surrounding bluffs blocking a good deal of the chilled wind and hiding them from wandering eyes. Their camp was more homey than usual too, the little lean-to a step up from their usual hasty constructed tent. Copper was enjoying it, sleeping the day away in comfort.

Pool after pool of grease shrunk down, freeing up room for another glob off the carcass looming over him. It wasn’t as though Arthur hadn’t helped him after he’d managed to pull the monster back to camp. He’d joined Charles to secure the frame and skin the creature and was probably still working to clean the steaks of connective tissue down but the river. But he sure wasn’t eager to work anywhere near the smoky fire after his victory. Arthur’s arrow still stood out proudly in his peripheral, a good four inches from the intended target and at a starling angle, arrowhead threatening to lose its grip on the tree entirely.

He’d glared at Arthur accusingly as his own arrow flew wide earlier, missing the tree entirely.

“That’s cheating.”

Arthur shrugged, eyes glinting. “So? I’m an outlaw, I cheat. Besides, we didn’t agree on no rules, just whoever got the better shot.” He gestured to the only arrow with a proud grin. It was the better shot.

Charles could have argued, maybe he should of, but instead he’d elected to just do the damn rendering, Arthur was bound to set a grease fire with how distractible he’d been all day anyway. Ever since Charles returned from the hunt that morning there’d been a dangerous glint in his eye.

-

Darkness crept into the sky as the last handful of fat stewed away on the stove and Charles finally let the exhaustion hit. Pure oil was almost level with the rim of the pot and the carcass was finally just about stripped bare, bones ready to simmer as soon as the pot was freed up. They’d need to cover and secure it after it cooled, but so far there’d been no sign of predators about, but the abundance of trees was a worrying. A perfect hiding place for the odd cougar or bear. Arthur still sitting by the water’s edge hard at work.

“I’m startin’ to think you missed that shot on purpose, despite my interference,” Arthur called over to him in greetings as Charles approached. “This is takin’ me forever.”

Charles couldn’t help the little laugh at his expense, but he crouched down beside him anyway, offering to help more out of his selfish desire to turn in for the night rather than any peace offering- Arthur _had_ ruined his shot in a somewhat dangerous way.

“How the hell’d you already finish all that work?” Arthur asked, not letting up.

“Well I certainly didn’t spare my clothes in the rush, or my hair...” Charles admitted as Arthur noticed the grime, the cold had pushed his usual meticulous routine into something more frantic. But the blood and flesh clumps staining Arthur’s arms to his elbows didn’t allow any judgements. “We’re both filthy.”

Arthur swore as another clump of gore suddenly dripped down onto his beige pants, just in time to agree with Charles.

“You’re right about that. We could use a bath.”

They looked out at the river before them, frigid waters pulling the last slivers of warmth from the evening, the little waves kicking up a cool mist that Charles could feel from meters away.

“We could heat some-” Arthur cut himself off looking up to where their one pot sat mockingly, “or not…. river then.” Charles continued considering the expanse before them doubtfully, moving water could be deceiving and he couldn’t tell the depth. It wasn’t like he hadn’t spent the odd night like this, even if he didn’t make a habit of it. Survival wasn’t always pretty.

“I don’t know...”

“We got a fire afterwards, and a brand-new pelt if we’re about to freeze to death.” Charles cringed at the thought of huddling together under a bloody and untreated pelt so soon after washing. But when he combed his fingers through his hair again to find a large glob of sticky fat, he found himself suddenly more agreeable.

Charles watched from his rock as Arthur stripped layer after layer off until he was completely bare, muscles taught in defense of the cutting chill of the wind about them. But he headed forward all the same with a final inquiring glance at Charles. Water lapped at his ankles, then up to his knees as Charles hung back, not entirely upset with this development despite the little nervous warning in the back of his head. He’d long stopped averting his eyes from such displays as it became more obvious that they were just that- displays. Arthur knew what he was doing. But as Charles tested the water with one bare foot, any thoughts to following Arthur out into the depths to show his appreciation were wiped from his mind. How was Arthur out there, floating on his back some thick furred otter?

He settled instead for a tin cup and some soap, only removing the offending greasy garments for the few moments it took to get clean, immediately burrowing into a clean set afterwards.

“You’re not cold?” Charles called out, not looking forward to needing to drag a frozen corpse from the waters. Arthur didn’t seem especially uncomfortable.

“Could be worse, it’s kind of refreshin’ really.” Charles shivered from his place on the shore. But despite his seeming nonchalance regarding the cold, Arthur soon hit his limit and headed for shore. Charles hissed at the little drops of water Arthur shook off onto his dry pants as he scrambled up the pebbly shore towards him.

“Feeling refreshed still?” Charles asked, rubbing at the offending droplets covering his knee as he weighed the benefits of drawing the shivering man towards him. Eventually he settled for just pushing the little semi-dry cloth to him instead. Arthur took it and hurried to blot up as much liquid as the thing could hold, then wringing out to try again.

“It _was_ great. But now I’m ‘bout to freeze to death and everyone knows the best part of the cold is finally gettin’ warm.”

“Well good luck with that,” Charles said, pushing off towards camp with a laugh. Arthur just cursed from behind him before hurrying to follow all the while struggling back into his clothing.

The fact that Charles’s hair was mostly dry by the time the tedious task of securing their meat from predators was done spoke of just how much food he’d secured for them. They wouldn’t starve anytime soon and Copper would finally be able to put on some winter weight. Arthur had tried to help, but Charles finally succumbed to mercy at the sight of the bedraggled man trying to hide his shivering, finally just herding him into their warmer shelter as he finished up. When he finally made to join Arthur, he was basically dragged under the bedroll pile and latched onto by admittedly cold limbs.

-

“I’m not as dumb as all that you know. I only went in because I knew you’d be here to prevent my icy death with your heatin’ abilities.” Charles felt movement, but he was faster, grabbing Arthur’s wrists between them before he suffered the full assault on cold hands on his stomach again.

“No you don’t.”

“You gettin’ bored of me already?” he asked teasingly, from within the tight grip. “So bored you ain’t even want me near you?”

“Not you,” Charles said, bodily dragging Arthur closer to his chest and receiving a little noise of appreciation, “just your cold, dead hands.” But Charles took them between his own and tried to rub some feeling into them regardless, who knew when Arthur would decide to strike again. But as the fire roared behind them, and Arthur tucked his head under his chin, Charles couldn’t complain. 

“I’m not forcin’ you to recall some horrible memory every time I even _think_ of a snowball am I?” Arthur finally asked and Charles could hear the legitimate question in the joke. He shook his head.

“It’s the opposite actually, never saw snow till I was practically grown- don’t know what to do with the stuff at all, besides freeze.”

“What?” Arthur sounded almost offended. “Thought you said you went hunting up north in the snow?”

“I did. I’m still a good shot even if I’m cold, I’m just cautious is all.”

“You sure about that?” Arthur asked, straining to peer up over Charles from their lean to out at the little arrow still hanging from the tree. Charles groaned, remembering the sudden warmth of arms wrapped around his hips from behind, face nestled up in his neck. ‘Don’t miss,’ Arthur had whispered to him, and despite Charles’s best efforts to prove Arthur’s treacherous methods ineffective, he’d done just that, missing the tree by a good two feet.

“Very sure,” he replied, suddenly very aware of Arthur ‘s closeness, of the hand that’d broken free to play with the seam of his jeans. “I’m also about ready for you to follow up on your promise.”

“What promise?” Arthur asked dumbly, as if he hadn’t been flirting with Charles ever since morning when he’d appeared with the elk. So Charles was forced to make the first move, trying to keep his embarrassment in check as he moved his arms down to Arthur hips, a proposition Arthur couldn’t ignore.

“Oh, sure- if that’s what you want, I guess I don’t mind.” But despite the blandness of his words, Arthur wasted no time drawing Charles into a kiss, icy hands pulling him impossibly closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arthur has the Resist Frost ability.


End file.
